Back in the Basement . . .
Brain Center: Wow, you've been doing great on this adventure. I'm really happy for you guys. (ahem) Now, as you descend the crumbling stairs the smell of decay overwhelms your olfactory sensors. A terrible lich is in the final stages of summoning--
Sunstreaker: I cast Incinerate Undead.
Brain Center: It has a fifty percent chance of failure.
Sunstreaker: Let's just resolve it.
Brain Center: Okay, one . . . two . . .
Brain Center: Three!
Sunstreaker: Three! Ha!! Rock smashes scissors. Eat it lich!!!
Brain Center: I was up all night designing this encounter. You guys are just trampling over it. How can you beat me EVERY time?
Sideswipe: You keep throwing scissors. It's like your claws are incapable of forming anything else.
Sixty Seconds Later . . .
Hound: Did we get a new table?
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